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“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“Animal conservationist.”
“Sounds smart. You should be in school,” I add, dismissively.
Her smile drops like a stone. “And you should be in jail.” She swings her laptop screen around to show me what she’s looking at. It’s a piece about Interpol Corruption with yours truly splashed across the front page.
“Can you spell the word ‘propaganda’?” I drawl. “If not, I refer you to the comment I made less than twenty seconds ago.”
She narrows her eyes at me as if squinting at a target. “Did you know a baby elephant sucks its trunk for comfort?”
“Cute. Why d’you like Taylor Swift so much?” She’s wearing another of her T-shirts today. It’s so happy and smiley it’s hurting my eyes.
“She doesn’t take crap from men. At least she says she doesn’t. But men have a way of piling all their crap onto you so it squashes you anyway.”
“What doyouknow about men?
“Nothing,” she says, blushing slightly.
“Do you think ‘crap’ is a curse, or a weak profanity?”
Rolling her eyes, she swipes the laptop screen back as I slot a Red Camel between my teeth, trying not to laugh. “You shouldn’t smoke,” I hear her mutter. “It’s bad for your health.”
“So is being a gangster.”
“You’re not a gangster, you’re a villain.” That sunshine smile threatens to burst through her frown again. “Same as Viper.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Villains have way more inner conflict than gangsters. You see it all the time in the movies. Gangsters are just dumb fucks with guns.”
I’m too busy laughing at this to pull her up on her language. “You mean the tragic backstory makes us more human?” I say, patting down my pockets for my Zippo.Nothing humane about what I just did to Ronan Kelly.The smell of puke and torture in the room is almost as strong as her sickly-sweet pop star perfume.
“That’s just a cop-out. Villains are way more complex than that.” Her slim hand comes out of nowhere and swipes the cigarette from my mouth. “Here.” She reaches into her pocket and chucks a box of matches at me, along with the lighter I was just searching for.
“What thehell? Are you stealing my stuff again?”
“You put it down on the table next to your cigarettes when you came over.”
“So, you’re a pyromaniac as well as a klepto?
“I only collect things that can hurt people, and from people I like,” she says with a shrug. “It’s a form of protection.”
“My car keys in Spain weren’t hurting anyone.”
She scrunches her face up into a ball of withering disbelief. “I watched the way you drove into that parking lot in Spain, Frankie. Five months in jailseriouslymessed with your driving abilities.”
“Can I have my smoke back now?”Where the hell did Viper dig this kid up from again?
“Nope.” That ‘p’ is even more pronounced. “Chew on one of those, instead.” She points to the box on the table.
“You want me to chew on a matchstick like a real gangster,” I say, lifting my eyebrows at her.
Her smile widens. “If you and Viper are that serious about burning down this city for revenge, it’ll help to keep one handy.”
CHAPTER 18
ADA
